


Gravity Rises: Everly Grace [Minisode One]

by BrightnessWings19



Series: Gravity Rises: Season Three [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gravity Rises, Dysfunctional Family, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fantasy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Paranormal, Season/Series 03, Siblings, minisode one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 23:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightnessWings19/pseuds/BrightnessWings19
Summary: At eight years old, Gideon Northwest has an adventure that he would rather forget.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Content warning: The following minisode contains semi-graphic descriptions of child abuse and other aspects of dysfunctional family life.]

**AUTUMN 2006**

Over the town of Gravity Rises, snowflakes flurried in the air. They landed on telephone poles, on cabin rooves, on the sweaters of residents as they hurried down the streets. They danced on the chilly breeze, drifting down on the grounds of the Northwest Manor.

Everly Grace Northwest walked through the Manor halls, nervously tapping on her leg with a finger. She was going to do it. She was going to tell him. It wasn’t fair to him to ignore him like this, as if he’d done something wrong. She hadn’t had the courage to explain before, but today she was going to get it over with.

Her task distressed her immensely. Multiple times, she instinctively reached up to her collar, expecting to feel her cool blue amulet there. Then she’d remember that it wasn’t there anymore. It wasn’t hers anymore.

Now, it belonged to her little brother, Gideon.

With Grace’s recent eighteenth birthday, her bond with the amulet had dissolved. She had grown too old to use its power. And Gideon, only a week later, had turned eight — the youngest age to use the amulet. When Grace grew too old, Gideon grew just old enough. Gaston and Geneva had intentionally spaced their children out by ten years, so the amulet could always be in use.

Sometimes, Grace really resented her parents for that.

She reached her destination only to be presented with a closed door. With a deep breath, she knocked.

No answer.

She knocked again. “Gideon?”

Three knocks later, she gave up and opened the door. She respected her little brother’s privacy — she was the only one who did — but she’d given him ample warning. “Charlie, are you in here?” She looked around the room. It appeared to be empty.

Uh-oh. She hadn’t expected Gideon to be gone. He might be somewhere else in the mansion, but in Grace’s experience, Gideon really only went two places: his bedroom and the forest.

She bit her lip. Well, three places, now that he had the amulet. His bedroom, the forest, and the Order of the Crescent Eye.

But he wouldn’t be there. He hadn’t finished bonding the amulet yet, and Blind Lincoln wouldn’t dare try a memory session with an unbonded amulet. Way too risky.

Should she go out looking for Gideon? She checked other areas in the mansion where he might be, but came up with nothing. She asked a few of the servants, too, and they didn’t know where he was. Seemed like she really should go looking. She really didn’t want to tell Gideon the news, but it was better come from her than from their father.

With a sigh, she went to her room and bundled up in her coat. She didn’t know the forest very well, but at this point she’d gone chasing after Gideon enough that it didn’t terrify her anymore. She knew his favorite spots, and she knew the areas to avoid.

But this time, she wouldn’t have her amulet to help her. She wouldn’t be able to fly over the forest floor to quicken her pace. She wouldn’t be able to defend herself from rogue gremloblins or annoying little gnomes who wanted her for their queen.

That was a tiny bit terrifying.

“You’d better be somewhere easy to find, Charlie,” she murmured to herself. “And don’t let me find you bothering the fairies again, either.”

~~~~~

Gideon wasn’t bothering the fairies. He was, instead, thoroughly lost inside a network of caves.

He rubbed the amulet with a finger, the way he’d seen Grace do countless times before. He still couldn’t believe that he had the amulet now. Grace used it, it was hers — and now she gave it to Gideon?

“ _I can’t use it anymore, Charlie_ ,” she’d said. “ _It’s yours now. Remember all the cool stuff I could do? You can do that.”_ She’d leaned down and whispered in his ear. “ _You can_ fly.”

How exciting was that? Gideon had seen Grace fly before, and he’d been so jealous. She’d levitated him, made him fly too, but it wasn’t the same when someone else was controlling it. Now _he_ could do it all on his own.

If he could make the dumb thing work, that is.

He’d been exploring this cool cave, using the amulet as a flashlight, when it had suddenly gone out. Gaston and Grace had warned him of this — that it’d take a few weeks with the amulet before it would fully bond to him and he could use it when he wanted to. But Gideon had gotten so excited about the prospect of a new tool to help him explore that he’d come out here to these caves as soon as he could.

He’d had his eye on the caves for a while, but he didn’t dare take a flashlight to explore. Who knew what Father would do if he found a flashlight missing and discovered Gideon’s excursions? At this point in his life, Gideon was confused on what actions would result in punishment from Gaston. Better to keep everything secret and avoid as much punishment as possible. And now that Gideon had the amulet. . . well, he’d be able to fly, but he’d be chained to more responsibilities than ever. Responsibilities could result in mistakes. And mistakes resulted in punishment.

So even though Gideon was in the dark, it was better than home.

He took the amulet off his collar and shook it. A dark cave was better than home, sure, but a _lit_ cave would be infinitely better than either. “C’mon, amulet, work!” he told it.

The amulet flickered to life. “Aha!” Gideon crowed. Part of him wanted to bail out now and leave the cave before the light went out again, but most of him wanted to keep exploring. So he pressed on, listening to the _drip drip drip_ of the stalactites and peering at the rock formations in the amulet’s blue light.

Until it went out again.

Gideon groaned in frustration — maybe a little bit of fear, too. Dark caves were inherently frightening, after all. He stood there in the darkness, shaking his amulet and hitting it against his leg as if it were a faulty mechanical device instead of a magical artifact. “C’mon, c’mon. . .”

It wouldn’t turn back on. But. . . was that a glimmer of light in the distance?

Gideon squinted, adjusting his glasses. Father talked about getting Gideon contacts instead, now that he was “becoming a man.” True men didn’t wear glasses, apparently. For now, though, Gideon needed the glasses to see.

He also needed _light_ to see, he thought wryly, but there wasn’t any of that nearby.

But he was almost positive he could see a tiny bit of light in the distance. Another entrance to the cave, maybe?

He took cautious steps toward it, feeling his way through the cave. He moved extremely slowly — wouldn’t do to faceplant it in the middle of this cave and fall unconscious. Then he’d be home late, and Father would _really_ punish him.

Finally, he got the amulet to turn back on, and he sped up. He continued toward the mysterious light. Its hue was almost the same as the amulet’s. It didn’t seem to be sunlight, so what was it? A society of dwarves? As his excitement grew, his pace quickened.

As he went, he noticed little crystals embedded in the cave walls, sparkling in the amulet light. They were very pretty. They reminded him of Mother’s and Grace’s necklaces, except these were rough and uncut, peeking out from the rock. That almost made them more beautiful.

The light from ahead quickly overtook the light from the amulet; Gideon barely even noticed when the amulet light sputtered out again. As he got closer, he realized the light was coming from above him. A staircase of loose rocks led up to it.

He started climbing, curiosity raging within him. He tried to use his amulet to steady himself on the rocks, but it didn’t respond to him very well. That didn’t matter, though; he could do this without magical help.

He finally made it to the top of the rocks and found himself in an amazing little cave. Crystals were _everywhere_ , all giving off light. It was like someone had split open a thousand geodes and used them to line the cave. No living creatures seemed to be in here, but a giant blue crystal floated in the center of the room. Definitely a place of magic.

“Woah,” Gideon said, and the crystals gave him a muffled echo of his own voice. This place was so _cool_! What was this? What did it do? Why was it abandoned? Gideon walked through the cave, stood under the crystal, peered up at it from below. He was way too short to touch it, and he had yet to accomplish the feat of levitating himself with the amulet. “What are you?” he asked the object. “Why are you in here where no one can see you?” He felt privileged to have found this place; already it felt like a private sanctuary from his problems.

The crystal hummed, as if it was responding to him. Gideon wished he could touch it. It looked so smooth, so calming. He stared at it for so long that the glow seemed to grow stronger. It gradually filled Gideon’s vision, so bright it almost hurt his eyes, and an unnatural wind whipped at his hair. Gideon stared into the light, even though it almost burned to do so. The magic in the room crackled on his clothes like an electric charge.

Then the wind died, and the light drew back. Gideon blinked rapidly to adjust his vision. That had been awesome, but. . . what was it?

“Do you want to see?”

Gideon let out a tiny scream and whirled around. On turning, he found himself faced with. . .

Himself?

“Woah,” he said again. His own self stood in front of him — an exact replica with brown hair, grey eyes, glasses, warm clothing — except the amulet on his lapel was a deep orange instead of a light blue.

“Do you want to see?” his clone asked again.

“See what?” Gideon said.

The Gideon clone glanced up to the crystal, then back at Gideon. “What we can do.” The clone looked at him with an expression of maturity quite unnatural on an eight-year-old’s face. “We can help you.”

“Who’s we?”

“Do you want our help?” the clone asked.

“What kind of help?” Gideon wanted all the help he could get, but he was wary of this look-alike who referred to himself in the plural.

“Your life is in flux, isn’t it?” The clone gestured to the amulet, which Gideon clutched in his hand. “You just received that artifact, but you don’t know how to use it; your punishments are increasing, but you don’t know why; your sister seems more and more distant; and so on. We can help you process all those emotions. Do you want our help?”

It was strange to see himself talking like this — well, it was strange to see _himself_ at all. Gideon didn’t know how this clone knew all this information about his life, but he knew that he _did_ want help with everything. In stating everything out loud like that, the clone had reminded Gideon of all the problems he was trying to avoid. The huge weight of distress that Gideon had hoped to abandon here in the cave.

Well, maybe he could abandon it. With the help of this clone.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I want your help.”


	2. Chapter 2

Grace should’ve dressed more warmly than she did.

The snow flurries had only intensified as she’d trekked through the forest. The drab yellows and browns of the autumn forest were gradually being coated in the white of winter. Grace thought she’d be fine; she’d bundled up plenty. But the sharp wind knifed its way through her layers and left her wishing for a blazing fire in the manor hearth. She continued searching for Gideon, shivering in the cold. _How_ her brother went galivanting around the forest so often, Grace would never understand. She preferred her comfort.

Grace stopped. She knew why Gideon liked the forest. With what Gaston _did_ to him so often. . .

She shuddered a little, and it wasn’t entirely from the cold.

Of course Gideon would want to run away so often. Grace didn’t know why Gideon didn’t run away entirely and go live with the creatures of the forest. She’d tried to help him, she’d tried to stop it, but — well. . . she couldn’t do much. She was afraid. She didn’t get beaten, but she felt absolutely helpless. The town didn’t dare question Gaston — Mother turned a blind eye to the abuse — the local cops were mostly Order members. Grace wanted to go to higher authority, like the state police, but she’d never learned to drive. Her access to the internet or phones was highly controlled by the network of Northwest servants, who were all in on it. And even if she did get help, the Order would just wipe the memories of those involved.

Before she’d outgrown the amulet, Grace was terrified that they’d force _her_ to do that memory wiping. That she’d call in the law enforcement against Gaston, and they’d drag her to Order HQ to undo her efforts. What would she do then? Would she be brave enough to refuse?

But as time went on, she’d discovered something worse. She’d occasionally glimpsed people carrying away unconscious townspeople in the dank halls of the Order headquarters — even though she hadn’t been there to wipe their memories.

Then one day, she had been summoned to the Order to wipe someone’s memory, but circumstances had kept her. She could barely remember why she’d been late, but she remembered what had happened next. She’d stumbled out of the Northwest passage, rushed to the memory room — only to find a group of Order members holding a young man, already unconscious and clean of his memories.

The Order members had all jumped guiltily when they’d seen her, exchanging alarmed glances. Grace’s hand went to her amulet. “What is the meaning of this?”

It took a minute before anyone answered her. “He was panicking,” said Janice Corduroy. “We had to act quickly.”

Grace looked around. Nobody met her eyes. “But how?” she demanded.

“Miss Northwest.”

Grace turned. Blind Lincoln stood behind her, arms hidden within his robes, his face grave.

“Walk with me,” he said.

She glanced back to the procession, which had already begun moving away. Then she followed the Order leader down the hall. “Lee,” she said, desperately reaching for familiarity. She liked to think she could call Lincoln a friend. “Lee, what’s going on? The Order doesn’t have — _another_ amulet holder.” She looked up to him and whispered, “Do we?”

Lincoln shook his head. “No. I’m not sure why I was instructed to keep this a secret from your family, either. I suppose he wanted to keep you under his thumb as much as possible.”

Grace knew exactly who _he_ was. “Does he even have thumbs?” she asked, playing for humor. Whatever humor she could find in this deeply unsettling situation.

Her quip earned a chuckle from Lincoln, but it fell rather flat. “It certainly seems that way from this perspective, doesn’t it?” he said.

Grace looked away. She and Lincoln both felt trapped; it was why they’d grown such a strong bond. The aging Order leader had reached out to her as a mentor and friend, even though he had no one to do the same for him. Grace liked to think she had helped him as much as he’d helped her, but she doubted that was actually the case. Still, he seemed happier when she was around.

Except now.

“What’s going on, Lee?” she asked. “How do you wipe people’s memories without me? I’ve seen other times, too, but I never. . . I didn’t want to believe it.”

Lincoln glanced to her sideways. “Because if it were true, we could wipe the authorities without your knowledge. If you were to alert them about Gaston’s actions. Yes?”

Grace’s heart skipped a beat. Lincoln expressed sympathy to her plight, to her brother’s situation, but he wasn’t acting as Order leader during those times. Sometimes, she completely forgot that Leader Lincoln had the same personal knowledge about her as Friend Lincoln had. “Yes,” she admitted.

Lincoln closed his eyes. As he breathed in, Grace could almost see the melancholy mixed into the oxygen. He shook his sleeves up his arms, revealing a device held in his hands. A strange gun had been entirely concealed in his robe until now. “This gun can do the job of the amulet,” he confessed. “I’ve been told that it entirely destroys the memories — it’s not as neat as your method, which is why I believe we still rely primarily on the amulet. But in the past, we went into a bit of a crisis whenever there was no eligible Northwest to do the job.” He glanced to the amulet on Grace’s lapel. “Often,” he said, “an eight-year-old Northwest would be tasked with wiping years of memories. A huge undertaking. Then someone created this gun, and now we use it as a backup for the amulet. This is how we performed memory wipings before you were of age, for example.”

Grace’s eyes flicked between Lincoln’s face and the gun in his hand. The story made sense, but it brought up a terrible notion, especially if it destroyed memories entirely. “Is this. . . is this the gun that. . . ?”

Lincoln nodded solemnly. “So I’m told.”

She once again had to look away as a heavy blanket of pity settled over her. A few years ago, when Grace was fifteen, Lincoln had shared his memory loss with her. Grace still wasn’t sure why she deserved to know. She couldn’t do anything about it, and Cipher had threatened her thoroughly afterwards, promising terrible things if she should share the knowledge with anyone. Some Order members knew of Lincoln’s memory loss, but Cipher didn’t want the information readily spread by those members. Grace suspected that, in the midst of judgmental cultists, Lincoln was just glad to share the knowledge with someone who loved him.

And Grace did love him. Almost like a father — to replace the lousy one she had.

 Lincoln put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Everly,” he said, using her given name. She’d once confided in him that she sometimes felt guilty when people used her middle name — like she was supposed to be a saving grace for people, when in reality she was so trapped that she couldn’t even help her family. Since then, Lincoln had only referred to her as ‘Everly’ in their private conversations. “Now you know,” he said. “Once again, I imagine Lord Cipher won’t want you to tell anyone about it.”

Grace nodded. She had assumed this was the case. “So this is why,” she said as another thought struck her. “This is why the amulet didn’t work. Because the memories are. . . are gone completely.” Soon after discovering Lincoln’s memory loss, Grace had insisted on using her amulet to try to recover the memories. Lincoln had protested, had told her it wouldn’t work, but she’d still wanted to try. It hadn’t worked, of course. She hadn’t even been able to see into Lincoln’s head, much less find repressed memories to restore.

“That’s part of it,” Lincoln confirmed.

Grace went quiet. A rebellious notion popped up in her head. One she’d wanted to follow for years. Now that she knew about the memory gun, maybe she could.

“You’re thinking about destroying the amulet,” Lincoln said.

She started. Lincoln’s uncanny ability to guess others’ thoughts always caught her off guard. Perhaps her body language was just obvious, but Lincoln often stated things aloud that Grace had entirely planned on keeping to herself.

“It’s not worth it,” Lincoln continued. “Cipher will find a way to take it out on those you love.”

Grace immediately thought of Gideon. Yes, Lincoln was right. If Grace destroyed the amulet, Gideon would somehow take the punishment. She’d find him huddled in the corner once more, dripping blood from his wounds and tears from his eyes.

“I know,” she whispered.

Lincoln squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said.

The words fell limply on Grace’s ears. Part of her wanted to yell at Lincoln that all the sorrys in the world wouldn’t fix her problems. But she knew he understood that.

As predicted, Cipher had appeared in Grace’s dreams that night, forbidding her from telling anyone about the memory gun. He also confirmed that he would, in fact, find ways to make her suffer, should she destroy the amulet. “You wouldn’t want to **deprive** your **little** **brother** from using it, **would you**?” he’d asked.

Grace had screamed and thrown a book at him.

Thankfully, Cipher hadn’t appeared in her dreams since. And now, months later, she’d outgrown the amulet. She was no longer a part of the Order. She would have rejoiced, if not for the consequences. Her leaving the Order meant far fewer discussions with her friend. And worse, it meant her little brother replacing her.

If she had her way, Grace would keep Gideon away from the Order forever. If she had her way, she’d rescue him from Gaston, put him in a place where he was safe. Heck, she’d even be willing to raise him herself. That was legal at eighteen, right?

She moaned in frustration. Well, if she wanted to raise him, she’d have to be able to keep track of him. And that had been nearly impossible _before_ he’d received the amulet.

She headed for the fairy dwelling with a sigh. Gideon had always been fascinated by the creatures — he seemed to appreciate their beauty, but above all, he envied their freedom. Grace had often found him sitting in their hollow silently, watching them as they went about their lives. The fairies acted annoyed by his presence, and Grace felt plenty of embarrassment whenever she had to apologize for his loitering. But the fairies never did anything to stop him from coming. Maybe they weren’t as peeved about his habit as they seemed.

More and more fairies appeared as Grace drew close to their home. They quickly confirmed that she was on the right track — Gideon had once again set up shop in their city.

Of course he had.

Grace followed the fairies to the city. She ducked into the hollow of trees, where the city of fairies stretched out among the coniferous branches. Fairies flew around the hollow, popping in and out of buildings nestled in the pine needles. And there was Gideon, sitting at the base of a tree, gazing up at the small, winged humanoids.

“Charlie,” Grace said.

He glanced up at her. “Oh, hi, Evi,” he said.

Her stomach flipped as she remembered why she had come looking for him. She had to tell him something. . . but she didn’t want to do it among all these listening ears. Fairies were terrible gossips.

She coaxed Gideon out of the hollow, apologizing to the fairies as she did. “I know it’s peaceful in there, Char, but you gotta ask permission, okay?”

“They don’t kick me out,” Gideon said. “That’s permission.”

Grace sighed. She glanced sideways at her brother, about to respond to his statement.

That was when she noticed.

“Charlie,” she said, “what happened to the amulet?”

Gideon glanced down at his lapel, where the attached amulet was no longer blue, but _pink_. “Oh,” he said. “I’m, um, not actually Gideon.”

Grace stopped. Gideon stopped too, shuffling his feet in the snow-speckled pine needles.

“What?” Grace asked. A simmering panic arose in her chest.

“I mean — it’s okay,” he replied. “I am Gideon, I’m just. . . I’m a clone,” he said apologetically.

Grace blinked. Was this. . . some kind of new coping mechanism for him? But no, the amulet was a different color. What. . .?

“This amulet doesn’t work,” Gideon — or, the Gideon clone? — said. “It’s just a marker.”

 _A marker for what?_ But that wasn’t the most important question, so Grace ignored it for now. “Where’s my brother?” she asked. “Where’s the original Gideon?”

“Safe,” the clone assured her. “I’m not actually the one who needs to talk to you. But I can lead you to them if you want.”

“Them?” she repeated. “There are more clones?”

Gideon nodded. “There are nine of us. One is with the original Gideon, and the rest of us are out here. Four of us are headed back to the manor, I think. They need to see our parents.”

“ _My_ parents,” Grace said. She felt highly uncomfortable with the idea of other Gideons running around. “Could you take me to my brother?”

The clone bit his lip. “I’m not supposed to.”

“C’mon, Char,” she said. She almost accented the words with a light punch on the shoulder, but she held back. There were scars there. Or — there were on the _real_ Gideon. “You can lead me to Gideon, and you can explain more about this on the way. Win-win.”

The Gideon clone gave her a shrewd look. “Yeah, two wins for _you_.”

“Exactly,” Grace said. She didn’t think a clone deserved wins.

The Gideon clone rolled his eyes. “Well, maybe you can follow me if — oh, there he is.”

Grace started as a _second_ Gideon clone strode into view. This one had an amulet of deep forest green. He looked surprised to see Grace. “Hi, Evi,” he said. “Come to watch?”

“Watch what?” she asked

Neither clone answered her. Instead, they faced each other. “Well,” said Pink Gideon, “I guess it’s time. What did you do?”

“I went to the library and sat outside the back door,” Forest Gideon replied. “And you?”

“Sat in the fairy hollow.”

“Think you’re strong enough?”

Pink Gideon shrugged. Then he rolled up his sleeves — no scars, Grace noticed. “May the best emotion win,” he said.

“Wait,” Grace interjected. “Are you two going to _fight_?”

“Yes,” they replied in unison. “We’re competing for the dominant emotion,” Pink Gideon explained. “We have polarizing feelings about the amulet. Whoever wins gets to stay prominent in Gideon’s mind, and the other gets pushed aside.”

“You sure you should be telling her this much?” asked Forest Gideon.

Pink Gideon shrugged. “She’s our sister.”

“Good point.” Forest Gideon then decked his rival in the face.

Grace flinched as she watched the clone go down. These two weren’t the real Gideon, she knew that, but they looked _exactly_ like him. It felt too close to home. So much so that when Pink Gideon got up and tackled Forest Gideon, Grace tried to pull them apart. “Wait, wait! You don’t have to fight!”

Both Gideons regarded her with her brother’s classic _are-you-stupid-or-are-you-an-idiot_ look. “Yes, we do,” Forest Gideon said. “We literally exist to fight each other.”

“I — I don’t want to see it,” Grace said lamely.

“Then go somewhere else,” FG replied. He then promptly received a slap in the face from his rival.

Grace flinched again. “I need you to lead me to my brother,” she said. It was hard to tell if the clones were listening; they were still battling it out in the new snow. “At least point me in his direction.”

Neither clone responded. They tussled on the ground for a little while, then pulled apart, panting. “We’re both pretty strong,” Pink Gideon gasped.

“Yeah,” Forest Gideon agreed. “I think it’s too soon to tell.”

“But we can’t _both_ get absorbed.”

Then, in unison, they turned to Grace. “You’ve used the amulet,” FG said.

“Ye-es,” Grace said warily.

“Which one?” PG asked. “Is it better to love the amulet and its power, or fear the amulet and its attached responsibilities?”

“It’s mostly a question of freedom,” added FG. “Will it make us more free, or less?”

Grace blinked. “I. . . I don’t know,” she said. “Both. You’re free when you’re flying, but trapped when you’re summoned to the Order.”

The clones thought about that. “Well, that’s not helpful,” FG murmured.

“No, wait,” PG said. “I think I’ve got it.” He pushed FG to the ground and stomped right on his face. Grace screwed her eyes shut, but still heard more violent sounds.

Soon enough, “You can open your eyes,” Gideon’s voice said.

She did.

Pink Gideon stood in front of her, and Forest Gideon was nowhere to be seen.

“I won,” PG said. “I’m stronger.”

Grace swallowed. “Congratulations?”

“Thanks,” PG replied. “It’s good when a positive emotion wins, I think. Now Gideon will be able to use the amulet to its fullest instead of feeling afraid of it all the time.” He paused. “I can take you to him now. If you promise not to interfere with any of this.”

Grace didn’t fully understand what _this_ even was, though she still felt a slight unease. Still, feeling positive about the amulet was a good thing, right? Gideon would be spending a lot of time with it over the next decade, after all.

“Um, sure,” she said.

PG smiled at her, and for a moment Grace forgot that he wasn’t her real brother. “Good,” he said. “Follow me, then.”

So Grace followed the clone, still struggling to wrap her head around the whole situation.


	3. Chapter 3

Gideon sat uncomfortably on the crystal-strewn floor of the cave. It was beautiful in here, but he couldn’t find a good position in which to sit as he waited for his clones to return. “We’ll just wait here for them,” the lead clone — Gideon thought of him as ‘Charles’ — had told him. “That way, they know where to find us.”

That made sense. But it’d become more and more difficult to wait as time went on. Gideon couldn’t lean up against the sharp crystal walls unless he wanted to reopen his scars, and the bruises on his legs made it hard to sit for long without becoming unbearably sore. If he was at home, he’d have to stay still _or else,_ but this wasn’t home, and he could move all he wanted. So he kept shifting positions, trying to get comfortable, as he impatiently wondered _when_ the clones would return.

He also wondered _who_ would return. There were four pairs of clones — pink and forest green to represent feelings about the amulet, pale green and blood red for Gaston, purple and yellow for Geneva, dark blue and pale orange for Grace. The pink, light green, purple, and dark blue clones were the positive emotions: love, admiration, excitement. The opposites were the negative ones: hatred, fear, resentment.

The clones had explained the process: They’d leave and discover who was stronger, and then one clone would “kill” the other and return to the cave, becoming the dominant emotion in Gideon’s mind. Gideon didn’t mind the idea of the clones killing each other — since they were just projections from the crystal, as Charles had explained —  but he did worry about who would win. What if all the negative emotions won? What would that mean?

Just when he thought he’d go insane from waiting and worrying, he heard clattering rocks in the distance.

He got to his feet. “Are they coming back?” he asked Charles.

“Sounds like someone is,” the clone replied.

Gideon moved to the entrance of the cave and squinted into the darkness. He thought he could make out two separate figures, though one appeared to be taller than the other. Gideon’s stomach buzzed with nervousness. Who was that? The clones were all the same height — so one or both of those figures was a different person entirely.

Fortunately, he only had to worry for a moment before the figures grew closer, and he could make out their faces.

“Evi!” he cried happily.

His sister scrambled up the last of the way up to the cavern, then put her arms around him. “Gids!” She pulled him close, careful not to put pressure on his scars. Then she pulled back. “What’s going on, Char?” she asked. She jabbed a thumb at her companion. “This guy said he’s your. . . emotion, or something?”

“Something like that,” Charles said from across the room. “Speaking of which. . .” He nodded to the clone. Gideon noticed it was Pink Gideon — positive emotion for the amulet. His heart leapt. So PG had won?

PG motioned Grace to step aside. She did so, though Gideon noticed a wary look in her eyes. PG stepped forward. “Let me touch your hand,” he said.

Gideon held out a hand. “Okay.”

“Without the glove.”

Gideon glanced nervously to his sister. “Oh.” He took a deep breath. It was okay. He could do this. His hands didn’t have any scars — the servants would never damage his hands.

But he was afraid that, without the gloves, he’d accidentally glimpse the scars above his wrists.

“It’s okay,” PG said gently. “It’s just for a moment. It’ll be worth it.”

Gideon nodded. Okay. Okay, he could do this.

He pulled off the glove.

He tried not to look at the hand, but he couldn’t help himself. Luckily, though, none of his scars were visible.

PG took off a glove as well, reached out for Gideon, touched his hand.

Then, he transformed into white smoke.

Gideon inhaled sharply, surprised by the sudden change. With the breath, some of the smoke fled into his mouth, traveling down his trachea. He eagerly breathed in the rest of the emotion.

This. . . this felt. . . _wonderful_.

“Gideon?” asked Grace. For once, Gideon ignored her. He just stood there, reveling in the feeling he’d just received. He. . . he felt _good_ about the amulet. Better than he’d ever felt. He felt powerful, like he could use the amulet to make his life better. It made him want to run out of the cave, jump into the air, and _fly_.

“He’s fine,” Charles said to Grace. “He’s more than fine, actually. He’s _content_.”

That was a good word for it. Gideon turned to his sister, unable to prevent a smile from appearing on his face. “He’s right,” he said. “I feel great.” He turned back to Charles. “Is this what they all feel like?”

Charles shrugged. “I imagine the negative ones feel different. They all feel like a resolution, though.”

Grace pointed to the spot where Pink Gideon had stood just moments before. “He said — he said there were more clones.”

“Right,” Charles said. “Three other pairs of emotions. One of them has to do with you, in fact. Have you come across a Gideon with a dark blue amulet, or one with a pale orange one?”

“No,” Grace said.

Charles pursed his lips. “Hmm. They’ll be looking for you. Maybe you should go find them.”

“No thank you.” Grace put an arm around Gideon. “I just spent an hour looking for my little brother, and I’m not going to go looking for _copies_ of him.”

“Evi,” said Gideon, sounding embarrassed. “I think the clones need to find you for it to work. C’mon, this is helping! Please?”

Grace sighed. “If I leave, will you stay right here?”

“I’ll stay right here with Charles,” Gideon promised.

She didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she nodded. “Okay.” She turned to go.

And almost got bowled over by another clone.

“I won,” the clone announced. Gideon’s eyes brightened, and he turned, ready for the next resolution in his feelings.

But the excitement turned to horror as he saw the color of the clone’s amulet.

It was blood red.


	4. Chapter 4

Grace saw the blood red amulet just before Gideon did. She watched her brother’s eyes widen in fear.

“N-no,” he said. He pulled his glove back on and backed away from the clone.

“I’m sorry,” Red Gideon said. “I won. I’m the emotion you’re meant to feel.”

“No,” Gideon repeated. “No, I d-don’t want you.”

The other clone — Charles, Gideon had called him — took Gideon’s arm. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s supposed to be this way.” He reached for Gideon’s hand to pull off the glove.

“No!” Gideon jerked away from Charles and ran to Grace. He buried his head in her chest, and she held him close, regarding the two clones with a hostile expression.

“He needs this, Evi,” Red Gideon said. “Would you rather he feel _admiration_ for the man who hurts him?”

 _I’d rather he not get hurt at all_ , Grace thought. She didn’t say anything, though. She just held Gideon as tightly as possible without aggravating his scars.

“It will help,” Charles promised. “This is all to help him.”

It didn’t _feel_ like it was helping him. It felt like these clones were drugging Gideon with happy feelings, then plunging him down into the depths of pain and fear. That didn’t seem helpful at all.

“Gideon, I need to touch your hand,” Red Gideon said.

Gideon shook his head against Grace’s coat.

“It’s a good thing,” RG insisted. “I know I’m negative, but you won’t be conflicted anymore. You’ll be able to _fight_ instead of worrying about offending your father.”

“My brother should not be fighting,” Grace said.

“Stay out of this, Evi,” Charles ordered. Grace hated the way he said her nickname — like it was a condescension instead of an affection.

“I won, Gideon,” RG said softly. “You’re meant to feel me. It’ll be better if we go through with it.”

Gideon clung tightly to Grace. Tight enough that he was probably feeling pain in some of his scars. “Leave him alone,” Grace said.

“I need his hand,” repeated RG.

“No.” Grace pulled Gideon another step back. Her foot slipped on a loose pebble. She threw her arms out to balance herself — she was standing at the edge of the cavern, and one false step could mean a treacherous tumble down the rough staircase.

As soon as she let go of Gideon, RG grabbed him. Charles ran forward and yanked off the glove; RG touched Gideon’s bare skin, then turned to smoke.

“No!” Grace regained her footing and pushed Charles away from her brother. She tried to wave the smoke away, but it hung there in a swirling cloud. Gideon put his hand over his mouth and nose, trying not to breathe it in. He went to the other side of the cave. The smoke followed him.

“You have to breathe in eventually, Gideon,” Charles said. He sounded annoyed.

Gideon shook his head vehemently. But Charles was right — he would have to breathe. Less than thirty seconds had passed before Gideon finally gave up and took a deep breath in.

Grace watched anxiously as the smoke entered his body. She moved toward him, in case she was needed.

She quickly discovered that, yes, she was needed. Gideon’s face traveled through a carousel of negative expressions before he sank to the ground, his breath catching in his throat. Tears spilled over onto his cheeks.

Grace hurried to her brother, kneeling by him and holding him close. “It’s okay,” she lied. “It’s okay. . . .”

Gideon sobbed into her shirt. “It’s not okay,” he choked. “It’s. . . it’s not. . . I hate him. . . .”

“I know,” Grace murmured. “I know.” _I hate him too_.

Gideon once again clung to his sister. She could hear the words, “ _I hate him_ ,” travelling on sparse breaths that barely carried their freight through the air. Gideon repeated himself over and over, but never in anger — always in sadness, in fear. He was too afraid of Gaston to be angry at him.

Eventually, his mantra changed. “I’m so scared, Evi,” he whispered.

 _Me too_ , she thought. But he probably didn’t want to hear that right now. “You. . . you have every right to be scared, Char,” she whispered back.

“I’m so scared. . . but I hate him so much. . . .”

They sat there on the cavern floor together for a long time. Eventually, another clone appeared — this one with a purple amulet. He and Charles shared a look, and Purple Gideon approached. Charles still held Gideon’s glove in one hand.

Gideon heard the footsteps and looked up. When he saw Purple Gideon, his eyes filled with fear. He curled his bare hand inside his sleeve as best he could.

“It’s okay,” Purple Gideon said gently. “I’m a positive emotion, remember? I’m your love for your mother. I’ll help you feel better.”

Grace was liking this less and less with every minute. But Gideon took a shuddering breath, held out his hand, and breathed in the resulting smoke after touching his clone.

“How do you feel?” Grace asked.

“Better,” Gideon said. Then he buried his face in her shirt and cried some more.

Grace wondered what this experience would be like if _she_ were the one with the clones. When it came to Geneva, would love or hatred win out? Grace had experienced her fair share of resentment for her mother, had participated in a fair amount of shouting matches. Her mother cared about her children, that much was obvious — but the woman could do so _much_ that she simply didn’t do. Grace couldn’t understand that. If your husband is abusing your child, then isn’t it your responsibility to do _everything you possibly can_ to stop it? Instead, Geneva seemed content to stay in the shadows, offering plenty of sympathy but no solutions.

Well, it didn’t much matter what Grace felt about that, not right now. Gideon’s love for Mother had won out; that was what mattered. Maybe it would help Gideon find comfort after Grace was gone. . . .

 After Purple Gideon got absorbed, there was a long wait for the remaining clone. Charles seemed impatient, even annoyed that Grace would dare comfort her brother. A few times, he opened his mouth to speak, probably to tell Grace that she should go find the clones so they’d stop looking for her. Each time, though, Grace’s glare was so fierce that he kept his silence.

The longer they waited, the more worried Grace became. The only clone left would decide Gideon’s emotions about _her_. What would happen then? If the negative clone won, would Gideon _want_ Grace’s comfort anymore? And then, how would he react when she told him her news?

She quickly decided that she did _not_ want him to discover the news _after_ the clone touched him. Way too many variables. She had no idea what this magic really did, and she wasn’t going to risk a worse reaction than was necessary.

Her new resolution meant she had to act as soon as possible. She hesitated. She didn’t want to tell him this. Saying it out loud would make it true.

Finally, when Gideon had dried his tears and was leaning up against her side, she spoke up.

“Hey, Charlie. . .”

He glanced up at her.

“I. . .” She licked her lips. “I came to find you because. . . I need to tell you something. A-and maybe this is a bad time, but — I don’t want to wait until that last clone touches you. I want you to hear this without magical interference.”

Gideon moved away just enough that he could watch her as she talked. His little eight-year-old face was drawn with worry. Whenever someone talked to a child with this much preamble, it was never a good thing. Grace knew that, but she also felt like she had to qualify everything before she shared her news.

“I’m. . . I’m eighteen now, Charlie.”

Gideon nodded slowly. “So you can’t use the amulet anymore,” he said. His voice was still cracked from the high emotions of the last half hour.

“That’s right,” Grace said. “I can’t use the amulet, so I’m not in the Order. That’s your job now.”

Gideon licked his lips nervously, but when he glanced down at his amulet, there seemed to be some excitement in his eyes.

“I also. . .” Grace bit her lip so hard that it hurt. “I. . . I’m eligible to be married, at this age.”

Gideon frowned up at her. Oh, she thought, oh, he doesn’t understand, I have to explain to him, how am I going to explain to him that I’m going away and I’m never coming back—

“Father and Mother are looking for a husband for me,” Grace said. “I’m. . . I’m going to marry whoever he is, and. . . and I’m going to go live with him.”

A bit of understanding crept into Gideon’s face. Even that small bit was awful to see, awful to _cause_ —

“Hey, guys, we couldn’t find Grace anywhere, and neither of us can beat the other one. Has everybody else come back?”

Two Gideon clones — one with a dark blue amulet, one with light orange — climbed into the cavern. Charles looked relieved and exasperated at the same time as he pointed to Grace across the room.

“Oh,” Orange Gideon said.

“She’s been here practically the whole time,” Charles said.

Gideon, the real Gideon, didn’t seem to notice his clones. “You’re leaving?” he asked in horror. “You’re — you’re leaving?”

Grace blinked back tears. “Yes,” she whispered. The word sounded like harsh wind to her ears. “Not yet, maybe not for a while, but — I have to go, Charlie. They’re going to make me go.”

“You — you can’t leave.”

She drew his head to her chest. “I know. . . I know. . . but I have to. . .”

“No!” He pushed away from her. “No, you can’t leave, you have to stay, you have to protect me from Father—”

“I can’t protect you,” Grace said, and the tears fell freely down her face. “I’m trying, I want to, but I can’t, and now they’re sending me away, I’m sorry, I want to stay, I want to save you—”

“You have to stay!” Gideon jumped to his feet. “I have no one else, Evi! You—” His voice broke. “You have to stay!”

The pair of Gideon clones shared glances.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay, I’ll stay for as long as I can. . . .”

“No! You have to stay _forever_!”

She got to her feet, tried to hug him again. “I know, I—”

_Thud._

Grace turned to the sudden noise. Orange Gideon had shoved Blue Gideon to the floor. BG tried to get up, but OG pounced on top of him, and the two clones rolled around the cave, throwing punches and slamming each other onto the ground.

Charles came over by Grace and Gideon, to get away from the fight. Grace grabbed her brother and pulled him against the wall, watching in horror as the clones fought. As she watched, she forgot they were clones, she forgot what they were fighting about, she could only see her _baby brother_ fighting with himself and hurting himself and—

“We love her!”

“She’s leaving us!”

“She’s our sister, and she’s done so much for us!”

“And _she’s leaving us_!”

The clones shouted at each other as they fought, acting out the very thoughts that likely ran through Gideon’s head right now. Gideon, for his part, stared at them with a horrified expression on his young face, nodding along with both sides of the argument. It looked like he was being torn apart.

“She can’t leave us!”

“She doesn’t have a choice!”

“Yes she does! She can _stay_!”

Grace felt like she was invading Gideon’s privacy. She was getting his thoughts in real time, screamed into her ears by his clones. That was wrong. It also _hurt_ , hearing everything her brother thought after what she’d told him. There’s a reason people can’t hear what everyone else is thinking, she thought. Because we’d all be too hurt to function afterwards.

“We love her! We have to keep loving her!”

“What’s the point in loving her if she’s _leaving us_!”

Orange Gideon punched Blue Gideon square in the nose.

Blue Gideon dissolved.

Orange Gideon stood up, triumphant, as Grace tracked her brain, trying to remember. Orange. Which one was orange? Which clone had won?

Gideon hid behind Grace, and she remembered. Orange was negative. Orange was resentment, orange was fear, orange was hatred.

Orange had won.

Oh, no.

Gideon cowered behind her, and she moved positions so that she was protecting him as best he could. Charles tried to separate them, but Grace kicked him so fiercely in the chest that he went sprawling and puffed into smoke. Orange Gideon approached from the other end of the cave.

“I won, Gideon,” OG said. “I won. It’s meant to be.”

“No!” Gideon shouted, tears resurfacing in his eyes. “No! I won’t let you take away my love for Evi!”

“I’m not taking it away,” OG said, his voice far too calm for the emotions that ran rampant in the room. “Blue Gideon will still be there. All the emotions from today will still be there. But I’ll be dominant. I’ll be first.”

“ _No!_ ” Gideon screamed. The force of the cry dislodged more tears from Grace’s eyes.

“I won,” OG said softly.

“Get away from my brother!” Grace yelled. And she let go just long enough to turn around and face Orange Gideon head on.

It was a mistake.

As soon as Grace let go of her brother, OG lunged around her and grabbed Gideon by the sleeve. The young Northwest screamed and fought, but OG pulled on his shirt. Grace reached out to pry OG away — but he tore through the sleeve with such force that _both_ layers of clothing ripped away, revealing the network of scars that laced Gideon’s arms. Gideon shouted and kicked and hit, but OG was too fast. Before Gideon could get away, OG touched a bare hand to his arm. The final clone dissolved into smoke.

Gideon held his breath again and looked at Grace with pure terror in his eyes. She was crying so hard she could barely see, but she could make out his expression. It was awful, so awful, no child should ever look that scared—

Gideon’s face began turning purple for want of air.

Grace grabbed him, held him close, squeezed him hard even though it might hurt his scars. “I love you,” she said. “I love you I love you I love you don’t you ever forget that I love you—”

Gideon made muffled noises that sounded like he was trying to say, “I love you,” in return. But he didn’t open his mouth; he didn’t breathe in.

Grace pulled back, knelt down in front of him, felt his scars with her fingers as she touched his bare arm. “It’s okay,” she said, even though that was the opposite of what she felt. “It’s okay that you feel resentment. It’s natural. My leaving is a terrible thing and you completely deserve to feel betrayed. You aren’t a bad brother just because you’re mad at me for a while.” Gideon still didn’t breathe; now his face was turning blue.

“But just know that I don’t want to do this,” Grace said. The words tripped over each other in their rush to reach his ears before he breathed in the smoke. “I don’t want to leave you, I hate Father too, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you even when I’m far away. I love you, okay?”

Tears welled up in Gideon’s eyes again, but Grace couldn’t tell if they were from emotion or lack of air. Probably both.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Breathe, Charlie. Breathe.”

Gideon sucked in a huge breath.

And another. And another. The smoke had long since entered his lungs, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything but breathe, breathe, _breathe_.

Finally, he caught his breath. He looked up at Grace with sad eyes, angry eyes, fearful eyes.

“You’re leaving me,” he whispered.

“I know,” she whispered back.

More tears, fresh tears, so many tears filled his eyes. He turned and stomped out of the cave, not even stopping to pick up his glove or fiddle with his sleeve. He fastened his amulet to his lapel as he walked, and when he reached the exit, he jumped from the cave, catching himself with the magic of the amulet.

That day, Gideon Northwest flew for the first time, and it was to get away from his sister.


	5. Chapter 5

Edward Prewitt.

Her fiancé’s name was Edward Prewitt.

Her new name would be Everly Grace Prewitt.

She tried the name out on her tongue. Over and over, she repeated it silently to herself as she packed her bags. As she carefully folded her clothes, she went over what little she knew about Edward in her head. As she arranged her beauty products into plastic containers, she wondered if he would treat their children better than Gaston treated his. As she shoved her entire life into a carry-on bag, she wondered how on earth she could fall in love with a man picked out for her by her parents.

She had a lot of her own worries. But beneath it all was an underlying current of concern for Gideon.

After she’d reached home that day — the day she’d told him, the day that his love for her lost — she’d found Gideon shut up in his room, the door locked, not coming out for food, not coming out for _anything_ unless Gaston Northwest himself came to the door and demanded it.

Grace couldn’t handle it, couldn’t handle his sudden coldness to her, and she took it out on her poor mother. When Gaston wasn’t anywhere near, she cornered her mother in abandoned rooms and _demanded_ that she treat Gideon better than she had in the past. “I’m the closest thing a mother he’s ever had,” Grace told Geneva, “and now that I’m leaving, you had _better_ step it up.” Her words left Geneva crying alone in her bedroom, but at the time she didn’t care. Maybe she couldn’t fix her relationship with Gideon before she left, but she was willing to trample over every other relationship she had on the chance that his life wouldn’t be _completely_ miserable after she was gone.

It wasn’t enough to erase her memory of his betrayed expression, however. Nothing would ever be enough.

Gideon had finished bonding the amulet about a week ago, and he’d performed his first memory wiping for the Order, too. Grace wouldn’t have known at all if she hadn’t come across her brother, running from the Order entrance as if a dragon were chasing him.

“I broke her,” he told Grace in a panic. “I broke her I broke her I broke her she’s broken—”

“Wait,” Grace had called after him. “Wait, Gideon, what happened?”

But he had already run past her to his room, and when she followed him, he slammed the door in her face, locking it audibly. She could hear him crying through the door, but he wouldn’t let her in to comfort him.

Now, a week after the memory wiping incident and a few weeks after the clones, she was about to leave. She was about to move, about to become a Prewitt, about to join a new family, and everything here — everything in _this_ family — was still _so wrong_.

She’d imagined so many times that she would fix everything. That she would get this family the help it needed to be healed. And now, now she’d been used up by the Order and spit back out by her parents. She hadn’t helped anything.

Blind Lincoln had listened to Grace cry and scream and whimper, listening with a quiet understanding, even though _he’d_ never been married off to another family when his little brother still needed help. Grace still felt like he understood, somehow.

But even catharsis with Lee was but a cauterizing iron when Grace was so close to leaving him forever.

The day finally came. Grace had everything packed up — she’d already sent most of it ahead — and she was about to walk out the door for the last time. She would stay in a hotel room tonight; the wedding was tomorrow; she would go on her honeymoon with Edward tomorrow night. No Northwests would attend the services.

She was terrified to leave without talking to Gideon one last time. She rushed to his room, leaving her carry-on by the front door. “Gideon,” she called. “Charlie, please, I need to talk to you, I need to see you—”

The door opened.

She hadn’t gotten a proper look at Gideon since that day in the cave. He’d changed _drastically_ in the past month. His hair was almost entirely white, and he wore the new contacts Gaston had bought for him. He seemed taller. His skin was entirely covered, too, save for his neck and head. While this had been his habit in the past as well, it seemed. . . more businesslike than before. More mature.

“Char,” Grace breathed, “what happened?”

He seemed to think that she was referring to his hair, because his hand went up to his head. “It’s the amulet,” he said. “It’s changing it to white. Father says it’s happened in the past, but not very often.”

She _was_ referring to his hair, but she was also referring to. . . _everything._

“You’re leaving,” Gideon said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Grace whispered.

“Now?”

“Right now.”

Gideon stepped forward and gave his older sister a hug.

She bent down, clung to her little brother, buried her face in his white hair. She was going to miss him _so much_.

They hugged in silence for a long time. Then Gideon pulled back.

“You’re dead,” he said.

Grace frowned in alarm. “What?”

“I need to think you’re dead,” he said. “Today, you die. Tomorrow, and every day after that, you’re dead. That way. . .” He closed his eyes. “That way, I can still love you.”

Grace stared at him. It made such perverse sense that she couldn’t respond.

“But,” she finally said, “I’ll try to help you. I’ll try to come back.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Gideon said, his tiny voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t give me hope. Otherwise, when you fail to keep your promises, I’ll resent you. I. . . I won’t love you. I have to love you,” he whispered.

Grace nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, I’m dead. And—” She reached out and lifted Gideon’s chin. “—I’ll still love you every day from the other side of the grave. Deal?”

“Deal,” Gideon whispered.

She gave him one more hug. Then she offered her hand, and the siblings walked together to the front door. When Gideon let go of her hand, her heart broke a little. But she steeled herself. This was it. She was leaving.

She nodded to her family.

“Make me proud,” Gaston said.

“It’ll be wonderful,” Geneva said.

Grace’s eyes searched out those of her brother.

“Rest in peace,” Gideon said.

Grace smiled at him. “Thank you.” Her eyes flicked to Gaston, to Geneva, but mainly they stayed on Gideon.

Grace opened the door.

“Goodbye,” she said to her family.

Then she left.

~~~~~

Gideon held a funeral for his sister.

He took a matchbook, a glass container, and a piece of Grace’s clothing — a scarf — that he’d smuggled from her room; then he went out to the fairy hollow.

He’d worried that his “theft” of the supplies would be noticed, but then he found that he didn’t care. If Gaston was going to beat him for mourning his sister, then Gideon would bear those stripes with pride.

The fairies regarded him warily as Gideon explained what he wanted to do. “There’s no fire hazard,” he promised. “It’ll all stay in this container.” He lifted the container, complete with a lid in case the wind was strong. “I just. . . I need a familiar place for this. Please.”

The fairies agreed. Gideon entered the large hollow, with pine trees soaring above his head and wind blowing snow around as if it were smoke.

He chose a spot near the center, so the flame wouldn’t be near the trees. The fairies all watched from their city as he gently lay the scarf to rest in the container.

“Goodbye, Evi,” he said softly. “I hope you enjoy heaven.”

Where else would his sister go?

He lit a match, dropped it in the container, sucked in a breath as the scarf caught fire. He breathed in the smoke from the flames — but this time, he wasn’t breathing in resentment for his sister. He was breathing in memories, the good and the bad, the pain and the love and the joy.

He watched the scarf burn, inhaling the cold air with its string of smoke.

“I love you,” he whispered.

He sat there for a moment, letting himself feel. Then he gathered up his supplies, returned to the Northwest Manor, put them away discreetly, and went on with his life. He never told anyone of his sister’s funeral.

His sister was dead. And it hurt. It hurt a lot. But it wasn’t her fault that she died.

So he could still love her.

**END OF MINISODE ONE**


End file.
